


a state of transparency

by transient_transit



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Fluff, Gen, Ghosts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-16 20:11:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11836173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transient_transit/pseuds/transient_transit
Summary: When Wonwoo first decided to move into this house, he didn't expect it to come with a ghost that criticised your meal habits.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy anniversary, Soonwoonet! I haven't been with you guys very long, but I hope to get to know all of you a lot better~
> 
> Thanks to cat for helping me out with reading, tory/ellie/poogi for being the people I bounced random stuff off, and everyone who had to listen to me sobbing ceaselessly about this
> 
> please enjoyyyy

"Soonyoung, I'm home," called Wonwoo as he entered, toeing off his shoes and dumping his bag on the couch. 

"Welcome home," sang Soonyoung, poking his head out of the kitchen. He was wearing the apron Wonwoo had bought him last Christmas, orange with decals of dancing hamsters. "I've just finished with the food, so have a seat."

"Thanks," said Wonwoo, as Soonyoung put the dishes in front of him and sat down opposite him, propping his chin on his hand with smile.

"You're welcome, as always. Dig in."

It was at times like these that he was reminded that Soonyoung was dead and a ghost. He could eat, but he never needed to, and always waved off having a full meal entirely to himself because he'd rather Wonwoo spend the money on something else, although he was always ready to eat the leftovers that Wonwoo didn't want. 

Or the small bites Wonwoo offered, as he did now, watching Soonyoung eat a chunk of meat off his fork and exclaim about how good of a cook he was. It always made Wonwoo feel slightly guilty that Soonyoung had never really gotten to reap the benefits of his own cooking skills, acquired post-death for Wonwoo's sake after one too many nights of watching him eat instant ramen. 

After the initial shock of finding out that the legendary haunted house was indeed as haunted as advertised—although certainly not by the kinds of blood-weeping, moaning and screaming ghosts he had been warned about—Wonwoo had fallen into a kind of odd friendship with Soonyoung, characterised mostly by Soonyoung's cheer, Wonwoo's reluctance, and trying to figure out household chores together. If Wonwoo couldn't figure out how to operate the washing machine, he would holler Soonyoung's name and they would then work it out together. 

Soonyoung had also declared early on that he wasn't going to watch Wonwoo "preserve himself from inside out" anymore, and nagged at him until he'd purchased a cook book, which Soonyoung had proceeded to read cover to cover before trying his hand at a pasta a la dente that very night.

It had been a disaster. Wonwoo had poked the… thing, decided he didn't want any of it, and gotten up to boil the water for his ramen. Soonyoung had been braver but more foolish; after one limp 100% durum semolina spiral, he had winced and spat it out as surreptitiously as possible.

Several rather interesting dishes later, Soonyoung had managed to serve his first palatable dish: fried rice. 

After that, Soonyoung seemed to take it as his job to cook for Wonwoo, though he was lazy in all other possible aspects. He only liked to create delicious dishes, then would leave the used pots and pans beside the sink for Wonwoo to wash while he went off to do something more interesting. 

Still, Wonwoo appreciated the food, if not the cleanup—in more senses than one. 

Nobody had wanted to live in the house because one of the previous owners had died on the same day and month they had moved in, and because the first time a house had been built on this site, it had burned down with the family still inside. The jumpy and highly superstitious estate agent in charge of the house had been very eager to impart this knowledge into any prospective occupants, warning them away from living there due to the "bad energies" and "dark spirits" that apparently permeated the space, boasting about how he hadn't set foot in the house for years in order to keep his soul clean from the creatures of darkness. Wonwoo, however, had been undeterred due to his refusal to believe in a haunted house and encouraged by the cheap listing as well as the location being close to a major transport network, so he had proceeded to move in anyway—to the horror of the real estate agent who now clutched his cross with a white knuckled grip every time he was forced to make contact with Wonwoo. 

As a result, the house had accumulated a thin layer of dust on most surfaces before he had moved in, and Wonwoo had had to spend hours googling for furniture-cleaning tips. Soonyoung had apparently felt shy at first, but then had turned up boldly at his kitchen table to steal the cookies Jisoo had baked for him the week before and declare himself the resident ghost, so Wonwoo was relatively sure he had just been skipping out on the hard work. 

Not that it was really Soonyoung's responsibility to clean the house. He technically lived there, but since he was a ghost—well, Wonwoo was inclined to let it slide. 

Soonyoung seemed to still be able to do most things, though. There appeared to only be three caveats:

One: Soonyoung could not go outside the house.

Two: Soonyoung could touch things, but not living things. 

And three: Soonyoung could only appeared whenever somebody disobeyed the rules on the plaque in the kitchen: 

_HOUSE RULES_ , it said, in a fancy, sprawling print;

_You MUST push in your chair before you leave the room_  
You MUST leave the shower curtain open when you are finished  
You MUST throw a pinch of salt over your shoulder if you spill it  
You MUST NOT look in a mirror at midnight  
You MUST NOT take exactly thirteen steps down the hallway  
You MUST NOT look behind you when going down the hallway  
You MUST NOT turn your back to a candle 

Wonwoo supposed that the plaque had probably been put up after someone had found out about Soonyoung, but when asked Soonyoung had refused to say anything about it, just that the person who had written it had gotten them from some fortune teller and that they appeared to dictate the conditions in which ghosts could appear. 

Soonyoung was pretty cagey about the whole ghost thing, actually. Wonwoo had sort of wanted to experiment with it, but Soonyoung seemed uncomfortable with the idea of being a ghost, even though they both clearly knew he was one, and so Wonwoo had dropped it. The first time Wonwoo had thoughtlessly tried to casually touch him, his hand had passed through him like he wasn't there. Whereas Wonwoo had then marvelled at the indubitable display of ghostliness, Soonyoung had shivered and said "Please don't do that again," with a very uncomfortable look on his face, so Wonwoo had tried his best—though he slipped up every now and then simply because in every other aspect Soonyoung acted exactly like a real, live human being. Every time he did, Wonwoo would apologise immediately and guiltily and while Soonyoung would smile a little stiffly and say it was fine it obviously bothered him on a level that Wonwoo didn't really understand. Wonwoo wondered if Soonyoung had been as uncomfortable with the idea of death when he had been alive.

"…I think I'm going to move on."

"What?" asked Wonwoo, alarmed and shocked out of his thoughts. 

Soonyoung blinked. "Well, I can't stay like this forever, can I?"

"I… suppose not," Wonwoo replied, but it felt like suddenly one of the pillars of his world had collapsed. Soonyoung was going away? Soonyoung was going to go away? Where was Soonyoung going to go? 

To move on… Wonwoo had never before entertained the thought that Soonyoung might be unhappy to still be around; had merely assumed that his entire problem with being dead had been just about that: being dead. Wonwoo hadn't ever asked Soonyoung anything about it, since Soonyoung had seemed to prefer to pretend he was alive as much as he could. It was Wonwoo's own fault for assuming, and now he was paying the price. 

"If I'm here I should learn more things. I thought I'd learn to bake, since it seems similar to cooking, though I'm not going to stop doing that or you might die without me," teased Soonyoung. 

Oh, thought Wonwoo dizzily, moving on to something else. Not to some _where_ else. Not moving on, in general. Even though it had never crossed his mind before, Wonwoo couldn't stand the thought that maybe one day he'd wake up and Soonyoung wouldn't be there. 

Could ghosts even "move on" like they could in popular fiction? Did they want to? 

"Soonyoung, can you move on?"

"What? To baking?"

"Like, as a ghost. Can you do that? Is it possible? To- keep going? To wherever you would go after?"

Soonyoung's face shut down. "Nope. I don't know, it's not like I've ever met another ghost before. I don't know anything, I wouldn't know anything about it."

Wonwoo could tell Soonyoung was lying from the way his face blanked and how he looked straight ahead of him, evenly. What wasn't he saying? But Wonwoo only said "Okay," and tucked it away into a corner of his head for consideration later. Now, though, he asked, "Do you want to do some reading before bed?"

Soonyoung's face lit up and he scrambled to go get his book, wherever he'd left it. Wonwoo, for his part, just rummaged around the cushions on the couch to find his. 

The rest of the books in the series were on a shelf in Wonwoo's room. They'd been a Christmas gift, and Wonwoo had been up to the eighth one (out of thirteen) when he'd moved in. Soonyoung, ever restless, had nagged at Wonwoo for ages to do something fun with him. Wonwoo, in an effort to block him out, had begun reading aloud from his book. Soonyoung had been hooked and gone silent a few paragraphs in before demanding he be allowed to borrow the first book in the series. 

"Oh boy, I can't wait until you get to that one scene with the dragon. There's a reason why my favourite character is Hansol. He's amazing in that scene with Seungcheol and Seungkwan too."

"No spoilers!" complained Soonyoung, still only up to the eighth book. Wonwoo, on the eleventh book, grinned. 

"If you want to overtake me, you only have two more books in which to do it."

"Shut up. I have lots and lots more time than you. I'll definitely get to the end first," Soonyoung grumbled, flinging himself onto the couch next to Wonwoo.

Wonwoo smirked. "Sure. Slowpoke."

Sitting next to Soonyoung like this, barely not touching, immersed in one of his favourite series of books, Wonwoo felt almost underserving, almost wondered if one day he was going to break one of the house rules to re-summon Soonyoung but be left waiting forever for him to appear in vain.

"Sleep well," called Soonyoung from his spot on the couch some hours later when Wonwoo yawned and got up, stretching. 

"Thanks. You too," he said, checked that the kitchen chairs were all pushed in, counted his steps to make sure there weren't thirteen as he walked through the hallway, and went to bed.


	2. Chapter 2

In the morning, Wonwoo got up when his alarm rang, and blearily, still half-asleep, went into the kitchen to pull out a kitchen chair first of all, then took himself to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face.  
   
Soonyoung was sitting in the chair when he came back, drumming his hands casually on the kitchen table and waiting for him.  
   
"Morning."  
   
Wonwoo mumbled something approximate back, and went to start the kettle for the tea. He'd have to do a grocery run soon; there was only a bit of cereal left and only a slice of toast. Wonwoo made do by pouring himself the rest of the cereal and taking bites of the bread in between.  
   
Behind him, Soonyoung was messing with the contents of the cupboard and pulling out various lumpy packages and setting them on the floor beside him. He'd gotten the cookbook Wonwoo had bought at some point and was flipping between two pages with a tiny furrow in his brow.  
   
"Wonwoo, let's figure out the oven."  
   
"Mmm?"  
   
"I need to use it."  
   
Finally summoning the strength to stand up, Wonwoo crammed the rest of the bread into his mouth and wandered over to where Soonyoung was. "You picked today to make chocolate chip cookies?"  
   
"Mmhm!"  
   
"You absolutely, for sure, one hundred percent need it to be today?"  
   
Soonyoung pouted. "Well, no, but today is as good as any other day."  
   
Soonyoung had said "today" but it was another four hours, twelve minutes and fifty-three seconds before they finally were able to put the cookies in the oven.  
   
The first delay was Wonwoo's two trips to the local supermarket, because he reasoned that if Soonyoung was going to try his hand at cookies, he may as well have the best ingredients, and if Soonyoung failed Wonwoo could then console himself about his cookie-devoid existence with the remaining chocolate chips.  
   
The second delay was when Wonwoo had to turn back on his way home after going to the supermarket for the second time, because on his way back Wonwoo realised he'd forgotten to buy his cereal, _again_ , for the second time that day, and so had had to turn back or face the mockery of Soonyoung's laughter.  
   
The third and final delay happened when Soonyoung had very carefully coated his fingertip with cookie dough and smeared it gleefully across Wonwoo's nose. Wonwoo, in his turn, had loaded a wooden spoon and launched it at Soonyoung's face with a casual flick of his wrist. By the time that dispute was settled, they realised they had to make another batch otherwise there wouldn't be enough to go into the oven, between all their fighting and eating cookie dough off themselves.  
   
"I didn't know we had baking trays," said Wonwoo, eyeing them.  
   
Soonyoung said, "Me neither, but they were there when I looked in the cupboard, so I just used them," and shrugged, laying sheets of baking paper on the trays and sticking the first glob of dough in the corner. Wonwoo wondered briefly if it was really a good idea to use old baking materials that had been sitting in an even older house for an unknown period of time, then gave up and plopped his glob of dough onto the tray close to Soonyoung's.  
   
It had been too close, apparently, because when the oven timer went off he and Soonyoung found themselves having to saw through the giant rectangle of fused cookies with a knife and fork. Making it more difficult was the impenetrable layer of burnt and blackened bits on the bottom that refused to be cut, so Wonwoo just scraped the top layer off with a spoon and declared it edible enough. The second tray fared slightly better, though Soonyoung had been determined not to burn them this time and so had instead severely undercooked them to the point that they may as well not have entered the oven at all.  
   
"I'm more of a crunchy cookie person I think," said Soonyoung sadly, but that didn't stop him from eating half the tray and then fighting Wonwoo for the last few crumbs. Wonwoo left him licking the baking paper and went to put the last tray in.  
   
The cookies on the last tray were slightly browned around the edges and way too gooey in the middle, but were probably the best of the batch. Wonwoo lifted them above his head, away from Soonyoung's reaching hands, and poured them into a jar. "We have to make them last at least a week," he scolded, "we spent half a day on them we shouldn't eat all of them in one go."  
   
Soonyoung looked imploringly at Wonwoo. "Why not?"  
   
Wonwoo opened his mouth to reply, but before he could there was a thump from somewhere above them and the sound of something crashing to the floor.  
   
"What was that?" whispered Soonyoung, frozen in the act of getting up on the table to reach for the cookie jar clutched in Wonwoo's hand. "Did you hear that?"  
   
"Yeah," said Wonwoo, at a normal volume. Soonyoung looked askance at him. Wonwoo shrugged. "It's probably nothing."  
   
A loud thump and the sound of banging a moment later caused Soonyoung to jerk upright and Wonwoo to peer cautiously around the corner. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary as far as he could see, but the muffled knocking was still coming from somewhere within the house.  
   
"Probably?" squeaked Soonyoung, then, "Wonwoo, don't go, what if it's a monster?" as Wonwoo stepped out into the living room from behind him to investigate.  
   
The thumping sound got louder as Wonwoo moved into the hallway. As he moved down the corridor, it became apparent that it was coming from _above_ him instead of from any of the rooms.  
   
Feeling a little silly, Wonwoo knocked softly against one of the walls—and was rewarded with an echo that indicated that the panel was lot less solid than it should've been. He felt around the area for a switch, experimentally tugging on the ancient candleholder when there was none. A panel in the ceiling swung open with a groan, dumping years' worth of dust on Wonwoo, who coughed into his elbow and attempted to swat the worst of it away from his face.  
   
"Soonyoung," called Wonwoo, staring at the ladder that had emerged from the depths of the dark hole in the ceiling, "did you know this was here?"  
   
Soonyoung poked his head around the corner and blinked. "Huh. I thought that was broken."  
   
"Why didn't you tell me there was something like this?"  
   
"I'd forgotten about it, honestly," he admitted, then hastily retracted his head as the sound of the something beating against the walls grew louder, clearer now that there weren't five inches of wood to travel through.  
   
There seemed to be no other option, so Wonwoo started to ascend gingerly up the ladder himself. Soonyoung, who had left his spot in the kitchen to stand worriedly near the bottom of the ladder, jumped as the thumping in the attic grew more frenzied and erratic.  
   
The source of the noise turned out to be, not a monster as Soonyoung had feared, but a bird, trapped in the folds of some fabric draped over the beams and banging into the walls in a panic as it tried to free itself. It beat its wings uselessly against the heavy cloth, frantic and trapped. Wonwoo picked his way through the clutter of old objects lying discarded in the attic and pulled the edges of the fabric out. The bird shot past him, narrowly missing his face, and flew straight out into the sky through the cracked circle of coloured glass mounted near the eaves of the house.  
   
"You're welcome," muttered Wonwoo, dropping the cloth with an expression of disgust. He made to start making his way back to the ladder, but stopped as he saw something out of the corner of his eye.  
   
"Soonyoung?"  
   
But Soonyoung had not come up. It was, instead, a painting depicting a young man sitting in what Wonwoo realised was the kitchen of this house, facing the artist with an arm casually braced on the table. It sat on an ancient easel, with an envelope in front of it that bore a name in fancy cursive.  
   
"Did you find out what it was?" asked Soonyoung when Wonwoo came down the ladder.  
   
"It was a bird that flew in and got stuck. But more importantly, here," he said, and offered Soonyoung the letter.  
   
Soonyoung did not take it.  
   
"It's for you. It has your name on it."  
   
Soonyoung shook his head. "It's not mine. It can't be mine."  
   
Wonwoo remained holding the letter out, helplessly, as if it would change Soonyoung's mind.  
   
"If you think it's mine, then you read it. I give you permission."  
   
Wonwoo glanced at him, then hesitantly took out the letter and unfolded it.  
   
_Dear Soonyoung,_ he read, aloud.  
   
"Not aloud!" said Soonyoung, barely audible and stricken, but his eyes were fixed on the letter and he was trembling so much he was holding onto the wall for support, so Wonwoo ignored him.  
   
_There are many things that I don't know how to say. You know how I am, more than most people. But if these words cannot reach your ears, then I will try to make them reach your eyes instead._  
   
_Perhaps I am getting more sentimental as time passes or perhaps it is you driving me insane, but you have been a great help and joy to me in these last few years. Your old stories of times gone by have always made me feel at home, and having somebody new to tell my own old stories to has been pleasing. I greatly enjoyed being here, and being friends with you._  
   
_I know you do not like to consider the idea of my leaving, but I have, and I am at peace with it. I only wish you would accept its inevitability as well. It is nothing to be afraid of. I promise._  
   
_From what you have told me, you should be able to wrap everything up with this letter. I know you do not wish to be alone any longer. I am leaving you this letter with the understanding that you know what is inside it._  
   
_But I digress. This is meant to be an uplifting letter, insofar as a farewell letter can be. This is meant to be me saying thank you, that for every disparaging remark I made about you there was a part of me that grew ever fonder._  
   
_Do not gloat. It is unbecoming of you._  
   
_Do not cry, either. It is also unbecoming of you._  
   
_For your companionship and your time spent with me, thank you._  
   
"and, uh, there's a signature at the bottom but I can't read it," finished Wonwoo, and looked up but Soonyoung was just shaking his head and backing away and saying, under his breath, "it didn't work."  
   
Wonwoo said, "Soonyoung," and brought his arm up and around to pull him closer, to reassure him, to ask what was up with that look on his face, to try and understand, "Soonyoung-"  
   
His arm went straight through Soonyoung's shoulders, and there was a second in which Wonwoo was absolutely baffled by how his arm could've possibly gone _through_ a person.  
   
Then Soonyoung vanished, and Wonwoo remembered that he was dead.  



	3. Chapter 3

Wonwoo closed "Helping a Tortured Soul Move On" with a sigh and placed it to the side along with where he had stacked "Why Is My Ghost Unhappy?", "Healing the Inner Torments of the Dead" and "A Guide to Freeing the Trapped Spirit", the last of which had turned out to be more about personal growth and freedom of the mind than about incorporeal beings not of this world.  
   
He hadn't quite expected the library to have any useful knowledge on ghosts moving onto the afterlife, but had hoped that it would somehow help shed a bit of light on what Soonyoung was. If the person himself refused to say anything about it, the only option left to Wonwoo was to find out the only way he knew how: by reading until he got to the answer.  
   
But the authors of all the books were either frauds or had never encountered anything like Soonyoung before. Soonyoung didn't wail at night or bang on the walls or rattle windows or throw (dangerous) things at Wonwoo, he only kept him company and made his life a little bit brighter for being in it.  
   
Was Soonyoung a tortured soul? Was Soonyoung an unhappy ghost, a tormented dead, a trapped spirit of the incorporeal kind, and all this time Wonwoo had failed to notice, only laughed and eaten his food and gone along with it without questioning or thinking about what Soonyoung wanted? Had he been lying about not moving on because he had wanted to, but couldn't?  
   
The letter had said "I know you do not wish to be alone any longer" and Soonyoung had said "it didn't work." Whoever it had been from, it had probably been meant to help Soonyoung move beyond this life, to where he was probably supposed to be. Whoever it was had known Soonyoung better than he did, and had been a better friend than he was.  
   
It didn't matter how Wonwoo felt about about it, if Soonyoung wanted to go, Wonwoo needed to help him. Perhaps he could finally begin to repay Soonyoung, for all that he had done, and finally give him peace.  
   
Soonyoung was probably still upset. Wonwoo had gotten up and pulled out kitchen chairs like usual in the days since, but every day he'd only be allowed to glimpse Soonyoung out of the corner of his eye before he vanished again.  
   
Wonwoo missed him. Just a little.  
   
A glance at the clock told him the library was closing soon, and he should go home, maybe microwave a TV dinner for his meal since Soonyoung wasn't doing it anymore. Perhaps he should've learned how to cook from Soonyoung and spent more time with him, before Wonwoo had known that their time together was to be cut short. The house felt so empty without Soonyoung's vibrancy and liveliness to light it up.  
   
Wonwoo refused to think about what it would feel like once Soonyoung was gone entirely.  
   
He was on his way out after putting his books back when he glanced up and saw an ad posted on the noticeboard near the exit. It read,  
   
_What awaits in your future? Are supernatural forces at work? Come get your fortune read and find out!_  
   
   
~~~~~  
   
   
   
Wonwoo was so used to summoning Soonyoung the moment he was back in the house again that he didn't even realise he'd done it until Soonyoung was sitting in the kitchen with his arms folded over the back, watching Wonwoo take off his shoes.  
   
Wonwoo was still waiting for him to vanish again when he said, "How was your day?"  
   
It was a lame attempt at starting up conversation again after the past few days of no contact beyond Wonwoo's eyes finding Soonyoung before he disappeared again and they both knew it, but Wonwoo let it slide because Soonyoung didn't seem to show any signs of disappearing again. So what Wonwoo said was, "It was fine."  
   
What Wonwoo really wanted to say was, "I gave a fortune teller a stupid amount of money to tell me about ghosts but all she did was waffle on about dead semi-transparent people who might want to kill me then try to peddle me her worthless gemstones for protection when all I wanted to do was learn about you," but that would've brought up the uncomfortable issue of the letter that had made Soonyoung disappear in the first place, so Wonwoo kept his mouth shut.  
   
"I see. That's good."  
   
If only Soonyoung would just say. If only Soonyoung would just tell Wonwoo about it, about who he had been and who he was and what he wanted. Wonwoo might not like that Soonyoung wanted to leave, but he wasn't going to stop him. Was that how Soonyoung thought of him? Wonwoo would not keep Soonyoung by his side just to shackle him to an eternity of domesticity.  
   
"Wonwoo-"  
   
"Just say it to me," said Wonwoo, surprising them both, but barrelling on anyway, "just say it to me. What you want. Who you were. Who you are. I can't read minds, Soonyoung, you have to say it to me aloud. I don't know anything about you."  
   
Soonyoung smiled vaguely. "I was thinking about that, today." He shifted his weight to his other foot and looked in Wonwoo's general direction, but not directly at his face. "I needed some time to think by myself. There was a lot about… this that I never said anything about and I think maybe that was a little unfair of me because you didn't know and you never asked because I didn't want to talk about it and the one time you did I just lied but expected you to know all the right things to do anyway."  
   
His gaze trailed downwards before flicking back up to look Wonwoo in the eyes. "I have some stories to tell. If you'll listen to them."  
   
Looking steadily back, Wonwoo patted the spot on the couch next to him. "Tell them to me. Of course I'll listen."  
   
Soonyoung nodded; then he said, "Did I ever tell you about how I died?  
   
"It was stupid. I ran away from my family when I got mad at something and hid out here. Just to be rebellious. I went around looking for the secret passages that I thought must exist an old, rickety house such as this. I found the attic and when I tried to climb up, I slipped; and when I woke up, I was dead. Just like that. Something so small and so simple ended my life before I knew it was even ending.  
   
"Right after I woke up from being dead, I met someone called Jeonghan. He was, well, a ghost too. He was someone who had died in the first fire that had burned down the first house and had been wandering around by himself on the site for ages. He'd tried to help me when he saw me fall, but he couldn't touch me and by the time he could it was too late.  
   
"It wasn't so bad. There was Jeonghan and being a ghost and not having to do things like go to school or make my bed anymore. He always made me feel at home, and I was never lonely or bored as long as I was with him. He treated me like his brother, and I spoke to him like he was mine. We used to spend afternoons in the empty house by ourselves, sitting in the sun and playing games. Nobody was around to disturb us, and we were free to do whatever we wished. Maybe I wished for a while that I hadn't died—I'd never even gotten to say goodbye or sorry to my family for leaving them behind—but it couldn't be helped. I'd been stupid, and I'd paid the price.  
   
"Then someone different from the occasional cleaning crew and prospective buyers came to the house. It was Jeonghan's younger brother, Mingyu, with a bouquet. After Jeonghan had pushed him out of the flaming house, he'd gone on to grow and mature into a man. He came back after all these years to finally face what had happened that night, and to thank Jeonghan for saving his life.   
   
"Jeonghan was really happy to see him grown up. He tried not to make it seem like it meant anything to him, but he couldn't take his eyes off him, and when Mingyu eventually left, Jeonghan went with him. He was watching Mingyu leave from the windows, and then he just kind of went fuzzy and vanished. I think he left. I think he moved on. He looked really happy."  
   
"But I didn't realise that with Jeonghan gone, there was nobody around to be with anymore."  
   
Soonyoung was biting his lower lip hard. He didn't seem to know he was doing it. "I hadn't realised how different it would be, to be by myself. How it must've been for Jeonghan, before I came. I didn't realise it would be so hard to live such a forgotten, ignored existence, to have nobody to talk to, to have nobody to be with-"  
   
He broke off abruptly and sniffed and tucked his face into his own shoulder to hide and Wonwoo could only wish, helplessly, to be able to do something to alleviate it, somehow, but his very corporeal hands were tied.  
   
"Sometimes when I look at you, the urge to touch you overwhelms me. Sometimes when I look at you I imagine hugging you, putting my arm around your shoulders, the way your skin would feel under the tips of my fingers. But I know that if I try it'll just feel wrong, like there's something foreign and alien under my skin. I can't touch anything that's warm and alive that can touch back."  
   
There was a pause as Wonwoo absorbed this, then, "Hold your arm up," he said, and set about wrapping Soonyoung's entire hand and forearm in the blanket that usually sat in a lump in the corner of the couch.  
   
Soonyoung said, "What are you doing?" sort of half-heartedly amused as he watched Wonwoo mummify his arm carefully.  
   
Wonwoo placed his fingers in the space between Soonyoung's thumb and his fingers all wrapped together and his palm on Soonyoung's and said, "This works, doesn't it?"  
   
The fabric sat sandwiched between their clasped palms, a barrier but also a safeguard.  
   
Wonwoo wondered if he had overstepped because Soonyoung just said "Uhuh," and looked away, but then his fingers were curving themselves to fit around the side of Wonwoo's hand, so that was alright.  
   
"Did Jeonghan write the letter, then?"  
   
Soonyoung's fingers tightened around Wonwoo's through the fabric. "No, that was Jihoon. The most stubborn, bullheaded old man I ever knew."  
   
Soonyoung laughed a little, fondly. "Jihoon was always tired and complaining and grumbling about how his joints weren't what they used to be and how lucky I was without knowing it, but even so, he always tried to do things on his own as much as he could.  
   
"But Jihoon was dying, and he knew he was dying. I'd told him before about Jeonghan and about those years spent by myself, unable to touch anyone, unable to talk to anyone because nobody was there. After that, he became a little obsessed with figuring out what had happened to Jeonghan. I don't know what he worked out because he never told me, but he told me to look for a letter from him when he died. I thought he was joking, because I never found it and because- he wanted me to move on, but…"  
   
But you didn't know how, Wonwoo finished for him, silently, watching him.  
   
Soonyoung shrugged uncomfortably under Wonwoo's eyes and looked away.  
   
"Do you know what happened to your family?" Wonwoo asked, squeezing his hand through the fabric.  
   
Soonyoung shrugged a little. "Jihoon looked into them for me and they're all long dead. My younger sister became a nurse. She has family, but I don't know if she ever told them about me. It doesn't matter, I guess." He worried his lip between his teeth. "Jihoon was only ever interested in her because of his obsession, anyway. She didn't even have anything to do with it in the end."  
   
Watching him, hugging a cushion to his chest as he spoke and fiddling anxiously with the bottom corners, Wonwoo thought he'd do anything to take that look off Soonyoung's face.  
   
I'll work it out. I'll make it happen, somehow. Even if it means losing you.


	4. Chapter 4

"Soonyoung, I wrote a letter. It's for you."  
   
Wonwoo stood in the living room, arm extended, the object in question held out between two fingers. Soonyoung was fussing with his crocheting things, on his third attempt at a rotund cat—the previous two misshapen lumps sat on the table after being dubbed "Wonwoo" and "Twowoo" respectively. He looked up at Wonwoo, surprised, noticed what he was holding, then began to turn his half-finished project over and over and over and over in his hands.  
   
"What? What's this for? You know we live in the same house, right?" asked Soonyoung, smiling up at him nervously and not making any moves to take it.  
   
"You know what it's for. It's the same thing Jihoon tried to give you. If you read it, you'll probably be able to move on." Wonwoo put the letter down on the table in front of Soonyoung and shoved his shaking hands into his pockets, trying to look unconcerned. "Jeonghan wanted to see his brother grown up. With your family and the way you died… I think what you want to do is to leave cleanly, leaving nothing behind you unsaid or unknown or up to chance. Jihoon gave you a letter with everything about how he felt written inside. This is my letter to you, with my true feelings inside. If you read it, you can go."  
   
From the start, Soonyoung had just wanted to move on and be at peace, but Wonwoo had had to go and move in and involve him in his life and tie him down once again. Would Wonwoo ever stop asking things of Soonyoung? Soonyoung, who stared evenly at the letter now, not a single word passing his lips.  
   
"Anyway I'll give you some time with that, I didn't know if you wanted to… I don't know, fix up some things before you left. Or something. I don't know. Take your time," said Wonwoo, wildly, and turned and walked down the hallway into his room and closed the door and leaned his back against the wall and covered his face with his hands and breathed.  
   
Wonwoo wanted to stay like this forever, in this room with his palms over his eyes and the wall digging uncomfortably into the base of his spine because he couldn't stand the thought that Soonyoung might be gone when he walked out.  
   
If he never left, he would never know if Soonyoung was really gone, if the couch was really empty, if the last thing his best friend had really done was make two ugly lumps of yarn and christen them after him.  
   
Or maybe they could meet again, somewhere, eighty, ninety years on, when Wonwoo's life was spent in its entirety and he, too, moved on. The thought of that made it a little more bearable, a little easier to accept, put a little misshapen lump of hope in Wonwoo's heart.  
   
"You don't actually want me to go, do you?" said Soonyoung from the doorway.  
   
Wonwoo pretended he had been rubbing his eyes and took his glasses off to clean them. "If you wanted to move on, you should do it, now that you finally can."  
   
"I've been standing here for more than a minute. I came to say goodbye, but-"  
   
It appeared that Wonwoo could really never stop asking things of Soonyoung.  
   
"Don't worry about it. Don't worry about me. If you want to go, you should. Don't let it stop you."  
   
"But-"  
   
"Soonyoung. Please."  
   
There was a pause, then Soonyoung said, "I came to say goodbye because I thought that even if you wanted me gone, I could ask for one last goodbye from you, because I was finally going to be gone."  
   
Wonwoo frowned. "I don't-"  
   
"I came into your room," continued Soonyoung, louder, "fully expecting you to just be doing your own thing, now that you'd solved the problem of the annoying ghost living in your house that you never asked for. But instead you're here, leaning against the wall, practically crying your eyes out."  
   
"I'm not-"  
   
"Wonwoo," said Soonyoung, louder still, "You say "these are my true feelings" and hand me a letter, but do you know what my true feelings are? Do you know how much I care about you, how much I think about you, how much I want to continue spending days together with you?  
   
"I'm sorry. You're wrong. I can't move on with just this letter. It wouldn't be leaving cleanly, because I'd be leaving you."  
   
Wonwoo continued to stare fixedly at the floor. Soonyoung's feet appeared in the corner of his vision as he stepped quietly into the room. "I was so relieved when the letter didn't work like it was meant to. I don't want to move on. I don't want to go. I want to stay here with you forever, doing more fun and stupid things together. I'm not ready to become nothing when there's so much more to be done."  
   
Wonwoo wanted to touch him, make sure he was still here and real, but he couldn't. His hands stayed twisted together.  
   
"And all this time I was wondering if you wanted me gone! But you just wanted me to not be alone or sad or stuck. I'm not alone. Or sad. Or stuck. I have you."  
   
Avoiding Soonyoung's eyes, Wonwoo's wandered off to the left, past him, focused on his desk and other things. In his bookcase, the eighth and eleventh spots of one of his favourite series were empty.  
   
"But you were letting me go if I wanted, for my sake, even if you didn't want me to leave."  
   
Soonyoung tugged the sheets off Wonwoo's bed, folded it over Wonwoo's shoulders from the front, then folded himself over them also.  
   
"Thank you. But I'm going to stay around."  
   
Wonwoo's hands untwisted, came up, settled themselves around Soonyoung's skinny waist. It was a perfect fit.  
   
"I'm glad," said Wonwoo, a little hoarsely. Soonyoung only hugged him tighter.  
   
Then, "I can't believe you basically wrote me a love confession letter."  
   
Wonwoo scowled and shrugged the shoulder Soonyoung's chin was on to dislodge him. "I'm going to take that thing and burn it."  
   
"Awww, you love me," cooed Soonyoung, going onto his tiptoes and leaning forward to press on Wonwoo's shoulders, "admit it, you do! Oh wait, you probably already did in your letter."  
   
Wonwoo bore his weight with a long-suffering roll of his eyes. "Yeah, yeah." He pulled away and headed back out to the hallway, wanting to get a cup of tea from the kitchen to nurse. Soonyoung wrapped the sheets around his own shoulders like a cape, and came with him.  
   
In the living room, the letter lay on the table in the same place where Wonwoo had dropped it. The third crocheted cat Soonyoung had been working on was lying on its side, big loose loops of yarn pulled out of its sides, crochet needle discarded beside it.  
   
"You ruined it," said Wonwoo without heat, scooping it up gently in his hands and tugging on the sides to try to round them out again.  
   
Soonyoung shrugged, watched Wonwoo's hands. "That's okay. That can be Threewoo."  
   
"When will you name one Soonyoung?"  
   
"When he turns out perfect, like me."  
   
Wonwoo threw Threewoo at his head.  
   
   
   
~~~~~  
   
   
   
In the weeks following, Soonyoung goes online shopping and buys himself a full-body tiger onesie solely so he can use it to cuddle up against Wonwoo in the evenings when they read. Wonwoo communicates his disdain very clearly with just his face, but slings an arm over the lurid orange stripes across Soonyoung's shoulders anyway.  
   
In the mornings, Wonwoo wakes up to stumble bearily down his hallway and first pull out a chair. When he's finally out of the bathroom, Soonyoung is singing as he bustles around the kitchen, making breakfast. He laughs at the state of Wonwoo's bedhair before serving him twice the amount of pancakes he can eat, and only stops laughing when Wonwoo crams his mouth full to shut him up.  
   
The letter sits in its place, wedged under a blue vase with yellow flowers, and will sit there for a while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!


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